


Sucks To Be You

by APerfectGrace



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Gen, Hospital, M/M, Waiting Room
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-07
Updated: 2015-03-07
Packaged: 2018-03-16 16:54:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3495839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/APerfectGrace/pseuds/APerfectGrace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some people end up in hospitals for the DUMBEST reasons.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sucks To Be You

**Author's Note:**

> "A toddler broke your nose and I may or may not have snapped my thumb during a very intense game of Mario Kart and now we’re both sitting next to each other in the hospital waiting room" AU.
> 
> I saw this prompt on Tumblr and I HAD to.
> 
> No romance, just two dudes meeting in a weird, weird way.

“Mr. Winchester, please take a _seat_ ,” the receptionist reiterated forcefully, staring up at him impassively. “The doctor will be with you as soon as he can.”

Cursing under his breath whilst cradling his injured hand towards his chest, Dean spared the exasperated woman one last glare before he turned on his heel and stalked across the hospital waiting room, trying to inconspicuously spot an empty chair amongst the gaggle of patients and not look like he was trying to avoid breathing the same air as them.

He was surrounded by coughing, sniffling, congested, germy people, and it was _disgusting_. Not to mention that his thumb was killing him right now, and the massive dose of painkillers he’d taken before driving over here (as well as one could drive with one hand and doped on drugs) was starting to wear off, making his jaw clench.

Finally, he spotted a chair next to a guy in a beige trench coat who didn’t look like he would throw up all over Dean, and hastily moved over to sit down, muttering a low apology as he parked himself into the uncomfortable plastic chair with a grimace.

The tween girl on his right started violently hacking her lungs out, and subconsciously Dean shifted further to his left, accidentally bumping legs with the trench coat guy.

“Sorry,” he apologised again, looking at him.

He was hunched over, the elbow of his right hand leaning against his thigh whilst his left hand was firmly cupped around his face, masking most of his features except for vivid, blue eyes. His hair was wild and unkempt, and he was grumbling.

“S’okay,” he answered back, voice gruff and hoarse.

Dean eyed him warily. “What happened to you?”

The man turned his head to look at Dean, unblinking. In a smooth move, he lowered his hand to reveal a swollen, busted nose, the nostrils stuffed with tissues. Dried blood was caked around his nose, and his mouth was set in a grim, thin line. It would have been comical if he didn’t look so grouchy.

“A toddler broke my nose,” the man replied without batting an eyelid.

“What?” Dean said around a nervous laugh. “A toddler busted your nose?”

He blinked at him, now noticing the faint drops of blood on the lapels of his coat, and the way he would clench and unclench the hand resting on his thigh.

He covered his nose once more and huffed low as he growled and shifted forward, clearly pissed off at having to be here. “Yes.” His voice was nasal, and he stumbled over certain letters as a result of his injury. It was kinda… amusing.

“Should I ask how?”

“Probably not,” the man replied evenly.

Dean nodded. “Sucks to be you,” he said honestly.

The man threw him a withering glare. “What did _you_ do?”

“Snapped my thumb,” Dean said, wincing as he indicated towards the hand cradled into his chest. “I think. I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” the man replied banally, squinting at him. “You’re just here for fun?”

“Hey,” Dean shot back, flustered. “I know I’ve done _something_ ; I just dunno what cause I swallowed a bunch of pills before I drove over here.”

The man’s eyes narrowed completely, and he dropped his hand from his face as he twisted in his chair to level himself with Dean, a look of disbelief on his face. “You injured yourself, doped yourself on meds and then _drove_ yourself here?” he repeated incredulously. “Are you _insane?_ ”

“At least I didn’t get kicked in the face by a freakin’ _toddler_ ,” Dean countered sardonically, face colouring.

“ _For your information_ ,” the man responded indignantly, reddening himself. “She dropped something on my face.”

“Clearly wasn’t your manners, was it?”

His eyebrows furrowed as he stared confusedly at Dean. “What? That makes no _sense_.”

“I _took_ something, remember? I had meds; of _course_ I’m not gonna make sense.” Dean was unsure as to why he was defending himself against this guy he’d never met before, but it felt important to do so.

“Are you sure it wasn’t LSD?” the man berated him.

“Dude, get off my back. I don’t _know_ you!”

“Castiel Novak!” the man responded forcefully, shoving his open hand at Dean.

“Dean Winchester!” Dean replied irately, taking his hand and shaking it angrily.

“Dean, you’re a moron,” Castiel stated, but the bite of his words lost its strength thanks to the nasal quality of his voice.

“Least I didn’t get KO’d by a child,” he spat, glaring at him. “What did she drop on your face anyway? A brick?”

“An angel statue,” Castiel responded heatedly. Dean snorted. An angel statue? _Seriously?_ “And how did _you_ injure yourself?”

“I…” The steam suddenly blew out of Dean, and he coughed awkwardly, cheeks flushing pink. “I, uh… I kinda, might… sort of… uh, snapped my thumb back during a video game.”

Castiel blinked at him, uncomprehending. “What?”

Dean rubbed the back of his head with his good hand, heating sharply under his collar. “Uh, yeah.”

“And you’re giving _me_ crap about why I’m here?” Castiel asked dubiously. “You hurt your hand playing a _game?_ ”

“In my defence, it was a seriously intense game of Mario Kart!” Dean answered animatedly, drawing strange looks from several of the other patients.

Against his better judgement, Castiel huffed a laugh, before immediately moaning low in pain and clutching his face.

“Don’t make me laugh,” he groaned, slumping in his chair. “It hurts.”

Dean tried to fight the smile curving his mouth. “That’s what you get for going six rounds with a mini-human.”

Castiel moaned again. “I feel like I’ve gone six rounds with Mike Tyson.”

“Like I said, sucks to be you,” Dean echoed with a chuckle.

Castiel looked over at him, lowering his hand and showing a tiny smile on his face. “So you like video games, huh?”


End file.
